


Weaponry

by drvology



Category: Batman (Unspecified canon), Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drvology/pseuds/drvology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick is a well-honed fighting machine. He puts none of these skills to use trying to vanquish Bruce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weaponry

**Author's Note:**

> B:TAS is my favorite Batverse incarnation; it's become my default setting when imagining the characters &c. That established, I think the fic I write can be aptly labeled 'canon & time nonspecific.'  
> → Written in an hour for 60_minute_fics challenge group @ LJ || 091807 Prompt #1 _Weapons_

He'd learned hand to hand combat. Block a punch, break a bone. The pounds-per pressure that would remove an ear, shred skin from flesh, pop a testicle. He was proficient in firearms even if they didn't carry them; Batman had insisted because regardless, guns were out there and dangerous, and one never knew when a last resort would be reached. He'd mastered stealth, was strong enough to free-climb, lived for the dropping freefall that would launch him into flight.

These are not the things he's relied on for the past months.

Dick had gotten good enough that he could put Robin into autopilot. Scan, track, observe, act where necessary. The long nights he put other things into effect, busy with more important matters, let Batman do the braintrust work of plotting patterns and planning their patrols.

He'd realized Bruce watched him. Intake of breath, shuttering blue eyes. The curve of lips when he smiled, naked as he shed Robin's suit, sway of hips. He was practicing the art of seduction and had always been a fast learner; Bruce caved that bit more and more each day. He'd discovered fleeting touches, held back enough to avoid being obvious, waited for the sweet capitulation that would bind them together.

Dick had gotten good at easy and undemanding flirtation. Long days lazily sprawled on the sofa or office lounger, soft t-shirt and sweats that lifted and fell when he stretched to reveal the jut of hipbones and tease of navel, let Bruce observe and piece the parts of want without being seen.

The past months were forgotten this night.

He lay in Batman's arms, cradled and held, like something delicate and precious. Batman scoured him for injury, eyes and hands anxious and thorough, felt everywhere and everything. He was dizzy and aching but not hurt, not really.

"M'fine," he insisted. Slurred whisper when he'd meant to sound casual, annoyed, reassuring.

Batman huffed and hefted him instead of answering, arced them from rooftop to fire escape to alley, secured him into the Batmobile then sped for home.

Dick listened to the grim silence, his pulse that throbbed over the knot on his head and the gash across his flank. The turbines screamed, low rumble of the road, and he thought to close his eyes for a moment before trying to tell Batman it was really no big deal.

He dreamed of flashing silver and blue eyes, slicing pain without tangible presence, vertigo that made it impossible to find the floor because it tilted every which way. He murmured noises--don't worry right behind you no'mmfine--remembered vividly the asshole who'd knifed him and the rage in Batman's every strained nerve after knocking the knife away and the bastard down.

The next morning he woke to a place that savored the past months and couldn't forget last night, completely new and perfectly right and familiar.

Dick shifted and Bruce's arms loosened enough to let him settle onto his back. He was bemused, still hungover from injury and meds, warm and cozy in Bruce's bed. It wasn't even past dawn; Bruce was haggard, gray, and when he smiled and sighed it all washed away.

Bruce gathered him in tight, kissed him sound and sure, twice, then again. Dick shut his eyes and burrowed closer, let sleep drag him under once more, let Bruce fit him securely nestled beneath chin and chest and tilt of hips.


End file.
